


Don't you mean goodbye?

by angylinni



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, beta gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angylinni/pseuds/angylinni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss was reaped but Peeta was not and he comes to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't you mean goodbye?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soamazinghere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soamazinghere/gifts).



> For soamazinghere for her volunteering her time as a beta for the Spring Fling. She asked for a story where Katniss was reaped but Peeta was not and he comes to say goodbye.

“Katniss Everdeen!”

 

Peeta’s heart nearly stops.  No!  It can’t be _her!_   Frantic, he watches as the crowd around her parts, leaving her standing alone.  Lifting her chin, she looked calm as she walked to the edge of the crowd and up the pathway to the justice building.  The buzzing in his ears is so loud that he can’t hear the name of the boy tribute, but knows its not him when the crowd shuffles and a boy is singled out, his clothes mended and worn, and ashy with dust.

 

Peeta wants to fall to his knees and weep with the injustice of it all. They were so close!  This was the last year!  Why, why did Fate have to be so cruel?  The Capitol machine is in full force, Peacekeepers marching down the aisle, grabbing the boy and nearly pulling him along as they march him up to the front to stand next to the girl.  Katniss stares out over the crowd, the wailing of her sister filling the still air.  As one, the crowd moves, lifting three fingers to their lips and raising them high, one last salute to the walking dead.

 

~*~

 

His brothers find him, somber and pale faced, leaning against the side of the tannery, watery streaks dampening his cheeks.  Mitchell gives him a stern look, a warning that he should heed, but he can’t, not today.  Pierce shoves his older brother and stands between them, blocking Peeta from the sight of their parents.  Moira Mellark is pinch faced and sour, her eyes scanning her surroundings as if the very air is offensive.  Garland Mellark was red eyed and stoic, maintaining a pace of one step behind his wife.  Everything he couldn’t and wouldn’t say was written in his eyes and as he pushed the small packet of sugar cookies into his son’s hand, Peeta knew what he needed to do.

 

“Time to get back to the store, there’ll be customers coming,” Moira said, staring hard at all three of her sons before her gaze landed on her husband.  “No sense crying over Seam trash.”

 

Peeta pushed up off the wall, his body nearly vibrating with ire.  “She’s not _trash!_ ”

 

Moira’s hand darted out, viper quick, catching his cheek with the back of her hand, her ring leaving a jagged cut on his cheek.  “Mind your mouth, boy and do as you’re told,” she hissed, two angry spots of color blooming on her pale cheeks.

 

“Moira, I’ll cover for him, he needs to say goodbye,” Garland said, reaching out to lay a placating hand on her shoulder.

 

She wrenched free, turning her hate filled gaze on him.  “And you’re no better, encouraging that nonsense!  He comes home now!”

 

People were starting to stare, lingering just enough to hear, and speaking behind lifted hands.  The angry spots grew to blotches, spreading down her thin neck.  Peeta knew that he had to go now, or he’d never get another chance.  He took off running down the street, the cookies his father had given him held in his hands.  His brothers somehow managed to get in the way just enough to delay Moira from grabbing a hold of Peeta’s shirt.  With a haughty sniff, she spun on her heel, storming back up the street to the bakery, her youngest son running flat out in the opposite direction.

 

~*~

 

The Peacekeepers were holding vigil, guarding the two plain wooden doors like they held dangerous criminals.  Peeta stepped up to the desk, his voice wobbling as he spoke.  “Peeta Mellark to see Katniss Everdeen.”

 

The bland featured man looked up from the ledger, giving Peeta a cruel once over.  “You’re not family.”

 

“F..f...friend,” he stammered, trying not to crush the cookies in the cello bag.

 

“On the left.”

 

“Thank you,” Peeta said, forcing his legs in the direction the man had nodded.  His fingers curled around the slim knob, his heart pounding nearly out of his chest.  He wasn’t sure where the courage was coming from, but he couldn’t keep silent any longer.  District Twelve hadn’t had a victor in twenty years, and despite Katniss being a proficient hunter, he couldn’t imagine the Capitol letting her illegal skills profit.

 

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and pushed open the door, stepping into the small space before he could think better of it and turn tail and run.  Katniss spun at the sound of the door, her grey eyes wide with shock as she stared at him across the room.

 

“Peeta?”  Her cheeks flushed crimson and she spun back around, staring out the tiny window onto the square.

 

Peeta turned and shut the door behind him before walking over to where she stood.  Her body was strung tighter than a bow and he could see her nearly shaking as she hugged her arms around her waist.  He set the cookies on the small sill and cleared his throat.  “Katniss.”  It took him three tries to get her name out, her eyes darting to his face time and again.

 

“Why?” she said softly, almost too low for him to hear.

 

He sighed and reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder, giving it an awkward pat.  “I…I came to say good luck.”

 

She spun around, shaking loose his hand, her eyes wild.  “You what?”

 

He flushed but stood his ground, motioning towards the cookies.  “Good luck, in the Arena.”

 

“Don’t you mean goodbye?” She snarled caustically, her hands moving to her sides, clenching and unclenching in an endless motion.

 

“No!” he squeaked.  Clearing his throat, he said it again, deeper and more determined.  “No!  Good luck,” he reiterated.

 

“There’s twenty four of us, only one comes out,” she continued, her skin pale, teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

 

“You can do it, Katniss,” he said urgently, reaching for her hand, cupping it in his larger one.  She was icy cold.  “You can hunt.”

 

Her gaze locked with his.  “Animals.”

 

Peeta held her gaze.  “It’s no different.”

 

Katniss shook her head and began to pace the small space.  “You don’t understand.”

 

“I know,” he said, reaching out to stop her, his hand closing on her shoulder.  “But try.”

 

“Try what?”

 

He gave her a sad smile.  “Surviving.”

 

A knock on the door signaled their time and it pushed open, white clad Peacekeepers coming in and grasping his arm.  “Remember,” he shouted.  “Survive!”


End file.
